I Tried to Read the Novel, but She Would Only Give Me the Short Story
by SepticLovebite
Summary: Drabbles. No rhyme, No reason.
1. Drink

Just some drabbles from Tumblr. They have no meaning, no plot line. Enjoy!

* * *

She couldn't handle her liquor, that was for sure. Daryl had watched Carol take a slug out of the glass bottle sloppily, coughing as the bitter liquid hit her throat. She couldn't have had more than three or four shots of the stuff and he could already see her eyes glassing over, fingers fumbling over the bottle neck as she pushed it back into his grasp.

"Slow down, slugger." He gave her a nudge, laughing as she gave him a look of mock disdain. "Ain't no goddamn race. And ain't lookin' out for ya when ya chuckin' ya guts up in the mornin."

"Shut up." Carol grinned and tugged her cardigan tighter around herself. "Never drunk this stuff before."

He could feel the alcohol warming him up, from his chest right down to the tips of his toes. He still had his wits about him, could never afford to get completely fucked up nowadays, but it was doing the job of taking the edge off of crappiness that was was their existence. Cold, harsh Georgian winters, a never-full belly and the constant threat of having his throat ripped out by flesh-eaters.

"Don't tell me, nothin' but the finest French wine for Carol Peletier, or some shit." He scoffed at her and Carol burst into peals of laughter, the sound as clear as a bell through the silence of the night. "Sssh." He threw a hand out over her mouth, cutting her dead. "Don't need a fuckin' tellin' off from the Sheriff."

Carol nodded under his hand and he let go slowly, as if testing her out. "I don't know who you seem to think I used to be, Daryl Dixon." She whispered. "But high-class, I was not."

He very much doubted that. And clearly it was written all over his face, judging by the narrowing of her eyes. Carol may not have been royalty, but there was no way in hell she had ever been the white trash that he was.

She nodded at him again, as if to reaffirm her words. Her eyes had gone as wide as saucers. He always noticed them. Big and blue. Crystal clear. Well, a little fuzzy after a drink, but still pretty.

Pretty? _ What the hell?_ He needed to wind that shit down. Fuck, he was turning into a total pussy. He took another swig from the bottle.

"I never was nothing special." She muttered softly, looking up at the stars. The sky was clear. The lights were so bright now there wasn't electricity down on the ground to dull them. Carol pulled the bottle from his hands and brought it to her lips, sipping slowly this time.

"Cut that shit out." The words fell from his lips without his consent. "You've always been special."

_Fuck_. What in fucking God's name was that about?

The bottle froze at her mouth. She turned her head to face him, slowly. Like she hadn't heard the words. Damn, he wish she hadn't heard his words.

He wasn't drinking again. He was a stupid, sloppy drunk.

Her mouth curved into a smile. She placed the bottle on the ground between them and instead of taking her hand back, it crept over into his space, finding it's way to his bent knee.

She had no words for him and now, he had none for her. Nothing that could take it back. Wasn't sure that he wanted to, not with that smile and those big blue eyes.

He really _was_ a fucking pussy.


	2. Scar

Sometimes, he forgot entirely that he was covered in scars. They were as much a part of him now as his hair or his toes. Back before the world went to his shit, he'd catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and would be startled by the red and white marks. But now, there weren't any mirrors.

Besides, there wasn't time to worry about something as stupid as scars. So he pushed down the nerves that wanted to choke him and watched unblinkingly as Carol peeled off her layers and stood naked before him. She gave him a shy smile as she rubbed her hand over her arms nervously and he hastily tugged off his boots as she sat beside him on the bed, watching him silently.

"It's alright." She murmured as he stripped off his underwear. He answered her with a hasty kiss, nothing as suave as he would've liked, but she responded fervently, clutching at him and pushing him down onto the mattress.

They didn't say another word all night. Not as she pushed them up onto the mattress, or when his lips skimmed the contours of her body. He said nothing as her head dipped below the covers and her mouth made him feel things he'd never felt in his life, nor did he say a thing when she came so hard on top of him, he had to silence her with a palm so her cries didn't disturb the others.

She fell asleep in a sweaty heap beside him and it was the first time he had ever felt like he could sleep with someone else so close to him. Like he could fall asleep and not wake up to someone beating seven bells of shit out of him or screaming in his face. It seemed scars weren't always marks made on skin.

Still, he would savour this night. This first night, he hoped. He wondered. Carol breathed easily. Exhaling over the cooling skin on his chest, her hair tickling over the hollow of his throat.

A couple of hours later, he felt her stir, body stiffening as she remembered where she was, but relaxing when she realized that he wasn't moving either. Her fingers brushed up from his hip, fluttered over his chest and as she moved them side to side, he realized that she was tracing out the pattern of one of his scars. It was a big one, above his heart, the skin puckered and raised. That one was a steak knife and it never healed properly because a 15 year old Merle had done the patching up.

"Ain't a single one of 'em that are pretty to look at." He told her that fact as though it were a warning. It only got worse the further she would go down, in the cold light of day.

Carol didn't say anything for awhile, didn't stop her rhythmic motions on his chest. Then her head shifted down, full lips pressing her mouth over the line, trailing kisses from end to end.

"They're beautiful." She whispered finally, just millimeters from his skin.

Daryl froze. Beautiful? Never been a word that could describe any part of him.

Carol's head tilted up, came back under his neck and she turned upwards and kissed the soft bristle under his jaw.

"Just like the rest of you." She murmured.


	3. Trauma

He heard her screams from across the yard and his heart stopped mid stride. Daryl plunged the knife into the Walker that was grasping for him with a fury unlike any other and wrenched the weapon free as he made to run to the source of the sound he could pick out from a thousand other voices with ease.

The yard was littered with Walkers but he left their deaths to Rick and the others as he darted between them, crossing the tarmac quickly and pushing through the wire gate to find Carol.

She was in sight, he spotted her shuddering form on the ground and for a second he thought it was over, she was bitten and she was done for.

She was hunched over another body, one in denim pants and long blonde hair, the golden strands stained with red and Carol clutched at the dead girl, cold hands clasped inside warm ones.

As he got closer, he realised he knew who it was. Beth. _Fuck. _Sticking out from the side of her forehead, next to one of her glassy, unseeing eyes, was a short handle. Carol's knife.

"I'm so sorry." Carol was muttered to the girl as though she could hear her, her words trembling and choked. She was lost in her own private hell as she shed her tears and before he could even kneel beside her, he had to take out two Walkers that had gotten close.

Daryl wrapped his hand over the curve of her shoulder and the shuddering stopped instantly, she froze under his touch and jerked away, clambering over Beth's prone form. The girl probably died instantly, poor girl, her stomach ripped to shreds and spewing onto the ground.

"It's alright." He soothed, hands outstretched and open. "It's me."

Carol eyed him warily, crouched in a manner that reminded him of a tigress, ready to pounce.

"We gotta out of here, now." He tried to keep the urgency out of his voice, but he needed her to move with him. Grieving could come later, when they had to explain to Hershel what had happened to his youngest daughter, but now, they had to ensure that they didn't die too.

"I-I-" Carol took another heaving breath, glanced down at Beth.

"Now, Carol." Daryl leapt forward and dragged her up by her forearm, marching them towards Rick and Glenn, who had almost entirely finished off the Walkers in the yard.

She cried the whole way down into the cell block. Daryl had been the one to tell Hershel and Maggie as they met them at the side door, Carol only cried harder. He didn't wait for their reaction, couldn't bear to deal with anymore sadness than the woman who he clutched in his vice-like grip. Wasn't so sure he could deal with that either.

As they fell into the dark passageway, Carol began resisting his tugging, freeing herself with a jerk and he heard her knock into the concrete wall with a sob.

A second later, she wretched heartily, vomit splashing the tile.

"Oh God." She moaned into the dark and Daryl fumbled forward, finding her hunched over, hands pressed against the wall. He gripped her by her shoulders, jerking her upwards.

"I killed her, Daryl." She sobbed. "She watched me put that knife in her brain!" Her cries become heartier and he twisted her around to face him, fumbled for her face and found her cheeks were wet with tears.

"You hadta do it. Couldn't let her go out as one of 'em." He told her calmly. Firmly. As steady as his get his voice to go.

"She was so scared!" Carol slumped forward, practically fell into him and he righted his footing to hold them both upright. He let her cry and cry for what felt like hours, until his legs started to go numb.

His shirt got damp from her tears, where her head was buried and in the distance, he could hear wails that he recognised as Maggie's.

Eventually, she cried herself hoarse and he took the opportunity to scoop her up into his arms without her protesting.

They were first into the cell block and he marched them straight into Carol's cell, her own, since they lost Lori.

She was silent as he settled her onto the narrow bunk and she snatched out for his hand as he slumped onto the ground beside her head.

He let her take comfort from his touch and listened to the sounds of their ragged breathing as he waited for the others to come in.

Carol's head tilted to face him and she looked at him with eyes that he could only describe in that moment as _dead_.

"It's never going to be over, is it? Not until the knife is in our skulls." Her voice was flat, resigned.

He didn't know what to say to that. It was true, wasn't it? Instead he just squeezed her fingers a little bit tighter.


	4. Song

She was completely against Rick's decision for them to hole up in this place. What was he thinking, a _church_? They'd had to clear out over a dozen Walkers resting in the pews, one wearing a dog collar. These people had come here seeking hope, help, salvation. And look what it got them. Nothing. Just like her hope had ended up with her baby stumbling out from a ramshackle barn.

If there really was a God, he was cruel. She wanted no part in His lies. His false hopes. There was nothing waiting for them, just pain and misery.

She refused point blank to sleep in between the pews like some of the others, instead, she set her sleeping bag down in one of the annexe's, children's paintings hung up over the walls haphazardly. There was only one cross in the room and she'd gotten on a chair to pull it from it's hook, stashing it away in a desk drawer.

The others were outside, it was an unseasonably warm day and they sat around the campfire, watching Daryl's kills getting cooked up. She had feigned a headache and no-one questioned it. They knew she wanted nothing more than to leave this place.

There was a piano in the corner and her feet made their way over without her having to tell them. The lid was dusty, clouding up and tickling her nose as she pushed it back to reveal the keys.

It had been a long time since, she had touched one, years, really. But her fingers found the keys she wanted easily, playing a tune only a lightly haltingly, getting smoother as she got into it. It was riding a bike, one never forgot.

She heard the door click open and shut and didn't bother to turn her head to see who the intruder was. She recognised those footsteps anywhere.

God, she hoped she could do this again someday. She'd forgotten how relaxing playing the piano was.

Her fingers slowed to a stop as he crept closer, hovering right behind her back.

"What song was that?" He asked, clearing his throat. Carol tilted her head back to look at his face.

"Clair De Lune. Debussy was always my favourite to play." The name did not register any recognition on his face as he sat beside her on the piano bench. Not that she expected it to. She doubted Daryl Dixon would've have counted piano-playing as one of his after school activities as a child.

"Don't stop." He told her in a whisper and she smiled softly at him and started again. Nocturne. Her absolute favourite.

He watched her as she fluttered over every key with a gentle caress, face just inches apart and after the first minute, his face crept closer, pressing itself into her neck.

Her fingers only fumbled the keys slightly as he kissed her skin, chapped lips working their way from her ear to her collarbone and she tried not to act as though she was surprised.

This was not their first intimate moment. It had been a few weeks since then, but every occasion since still hitched her breath and made her wonder what she ever did to deserve Daryl Dixon. Everything else had gone to shit, but not him.

His hands crept around her waist, tugging her shirt upwards and her hands fell away from the keys for Daryl to pull it over her head.

Her skin goosepimpled immediately, although not from the cold and breasts swung free as he removed her and he turned to straddle the bench, tugging her to do the same.

He was so _soft_ with her and she marveled at it. He was normally coarse, as much as he tried not to be and their couplings were always frantic, a hurry to reach the end so as not to be disturbed, whether it be the group or the undead. He knew she hated this place, how frayed her nerves were. How tired of it she was.

His fingers ran over skin, from her cheeks down to her hips, stopping to thumb her nipple, eliciting a soft moan from her.

She pulled away to stand up, tugging her pants off and he pulled her into his lap the second she came free from them, bending her legs to wrap around his waist.

The hot notch between her thighs met his hardened crotch and she ground against it, eager to feel some friction, despite his denim separating them and she melted into his kisses as he clutched her as close as she could.

Eventually, it became too much and she slid a hand between them, fumbling for the button on his pants. Daryl threw a leg over the bench and stood up, setting her down on the keys of the piano with a tuneless thunk. She stifled a laugh as he threw his clothes off and the keys made sounds again as he slid his fingers under her ass to pull her back onto the bench with him.

He slid into her quickly, easily and moaned into her breasts as she rocked on his lap, creating her preferred rhythm. She came first, keening softly into his ear and it spurred him on, using his hand to brace himself on the ivories with a plunk and thrusting up into her.

A few seconds later she felt his warmth spread within her and they slumped together in a sweaty heap. His tongue traced a lazy pattern on a salty skin and she sighed with contentment. If there was any reason to go on at all, with no faith in God, then this was it. She had faith in Daryl Dixon.

Voices were heard in the building and they scrambled to find clothes but they weren't disturbed. Carol returned to the bench and put her fingers back on the keys. Nocturne came tumbling free and Daryl clipped on his knife, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I told him that we leave this place in the morning, no matter what." He bent forward and placed a kiss on her ear before leaving her to her playing.


	5. Child

"Judy, want me to tell your Daddy 'bout this or wha'?" Daryl folded his arms impatiently and stared down his adversary.

Her dark curls bobbed and she looked up at him defiantly. "No." She finally conceded, matching his stance with folded arms of her own.

"Then quit bein' a pain in my ass!" Fuck, kids were hard work. Judith was just four years old and Daryl already dreaded what she was going to be like at fourteen.

He privately though that the kid had to have been Shane's, rather than Rick's because, shit, she was stubborn as a mule.

He just thanked whatever higher power there was, that he didn't have to deal with her full time. She wasn't technically his. She was Rick's. But they all looked out for her just the same. At least he didn't have to deal with things like making her eat her vegetables, bath times and bed times. Nope, that shit was all Carol's.

He gave Judith a cuff on the back of her head and she scowled at him as she lead the way back into the house, feet stomping with more attitude than he could handle. He bit his tongue, because in a moment, it would be hand over time and she was someone else's damn problem.

"She's all yours." He announced as they trouped into the kitchen, welcomed by the sweet smell of Carol's cooking. Some sort of fruit pie, maybe those blackberries he'd found with the kid the day before.

Carol gave him a look from the corner of her eye, stopping the rolling of her dough and turning to face Judith who was rooting around in bowl of tomatoes.

"You been misbehaving again, Judith?" She asked the girl and Judith ceased her rummaging to look up at Carol.

"It ain't my fault!" Judith stomped her little foot. "It just happened."

"She tried to stab a Walker." Daryl rolled his eyes and snagged a tomato from the bowl, biting into it like an apple.

Carol gasped and dropped the rolling pin onto the counter.

"Judith!" Carol wiped her hands on the apron she wore and bent down to meet the little girl. "You musn't! You must never try. That's not your job, it's Daryl's! You're still too little." She ran her floury finger over Judy's chubby cheek, stuffed full of tomato.

"I'm not too little, I got 'im good, didn't I?" She looked to Daryl for confirmation and Daryl couldn't help but laugh. The kid really was too much.

Truth was, she had gotten the Walker pretty good, albeit in the knees. And if he hadn't been there to pull her away, once the thing took a tumble to the ground, she'd have probably gotten it good in the skull too. But she shouldn't be doing it. Even with his own brutal upbringing as a measure, he recognised that killing Walkers was not something a four year old child needed to deal with.

He wouldn't be taking her out on a hunt again anytime soon.

"Yeah, but you know you gotta get 'em in the head, knees ain't gonna stop 'em."

Judith slammed the bowl down onto the counter and stuck her tongue out at him, running past them both to head for the sitting room, where no doubt Hershel would be sitting and forced to listen to her.

Judith had already worked out how to get the old man under her thumb, especially when it wasn't so easy for him to remove himself from her demanding presence.

"I can't be doin' with all this kid bullshit. She's Rick's problem." He muttered to Carol, who resumed rolling her dough and he hoisted himself onto the counter top.

She chuckled and raised her eyebrow at him. "I'm pretty sure that you say that at least once a day. Besides, it was you that wanted to take her out."

He snorted. "Ain't gonna make that mistake again." He tossed the last bit of tomato into his mouth and reached over her for another, but Carol slapped his hand away.

"I want _some_ of them for dinner." She told him with a smile.

Daryl let out a sigh and slid off the counter top. "I'm gonna clean up." He brushed past her with a kiss and disappeared.

When he settled into bed with Carol that night, Judith still played on his mind. Her pouting lasted through dinner and even refused her father's offer of a bedtime story.

He burrowed under the covers and pressed himself into Carol's sleeping back when the door creaked open.

Small bare feet slapped against the laminate and Carol stirred lightly as the bed jostled on her side. Judy slid under the covers, hair sticking up in all directions and Carol just opened her arms to receive her.

The little girl nestled herself close to Carol's chest and threw an arm over her waist, little fingers wrapping twisting up in his shirt.

"So much for ignorin' us." He mumbled into Carol's neck and he heard Judith sigh into Carol's nightgown.

He knew why she was here instead of crawling in with her father. Michonne. She had never taken to the woman and it only got worse once she started sharing Rick's bed.

"I'm tryin' to sleep." She told him firmly and he heard Carol stifle a giggle.

"Shut up, kid." He grumbled.

_Kids_, who'd fucking bother?


	6. Warmth

God, she was freezing. She had every item of clothing she possessed on her body, as well as the blanket and a sleeping bag and still, she froze. Carol had always thought that the Georgian winters were mild, but when they were spent living outdoors, it may as well have been Siberia.

She needed to rest. She'd been up all night the previous night with Lori, who was desperately trying to pretend she was alright, despite the contractions. Carol thought they were just false alarms, well, she hoped. It was too soon.

So now it was her turn to get a full night and the moon was already high in the sky and still her eyes wouldn't close for more than a moment.

Lori snored lightly beside her and Carol let out a sigh. It was no good. Maybe a short walk, just around the camp, would clear her head.

Daryl was on watch, she could see him sitting atop the truck as she unzipped her sleeping bag and tugged it around her as a second blanket before she made her way to the truck, giving him a smile as she passed him.

"Where the fuck you off to?" He growled at her, shouldering the crossbow and jumping onto the car bonnet.

"I'm not going out of sight." She shrugged and turned away. "Just can't get to sleep."

She heard him jump off the bonnet onto the grass, his footsteps ever so lightly catching up to hers.

"Ain't gonna get to sleep whilst ya walkin'. Go back, don't need to have to worry where your ass is as well."

She stopped in her tracks, brow furrowing at his annoyance with her. She hated irritating him.

"It's so cold." She pushed her face into her sleeping bag, feeling her warm breath push back onto her cheeks.

"Well, get back to the fire." He told her impatiently, reaching out and pushing her on her shoulder to get her moving.

She gave him a reproachful look and sighed before heading back to the campfire.

She wished she didn't irritate him. She knew it wasn't her personally, he gave them all short shrift most of the time, but she took it personally. It was as if he didn't want to be part of the group anymore.

She didn't blame him. Sometimes she didn't want to be part of the group either.

She watched him as he took up his watch point on the truck again and every so often he would glance her way, sighing audibly when they caught each other's eye.

Eventually she forced herself to pretend, so that she wouldn't have feel like a total disappointment to him and to avoid a telling off in the morning when he caught her yawning.

She heard Glenn get up from nearby after a little time, him muttering something or other to Daryl. Then the thunk of someone coming off the truck.

She kept her eyes shut even when a figure loomed on front of her, the shadow of him visibly through her eyelids, blocking the light of the fire.

She heard the soft thud of his crossbow as it hit the earth and felt the movement of him stepping over her and slumping behind her prone and cold body.

"Shuffle back." He muttered in her ear and her eyes snapped open, heading turning to look at him. He only looked back at her impatiently. "Come on."

She did as he asked, pressing her back into his chest, lifting the blankets to let him slid in with her. His arm slid around her waist, tugging her that extra inch closer. She tried not to flinch, because the contact was so unexpected. So strange, to have it come from him.

He hitched his leg over both hers, tangling them up in a mess of limbs and drew her hands to her waist, under his palm.

"Now, fuckin' sleep." He ordered grouchily in her ear, before settling his head in the crook of her neck.

She tried to steady the pounding of her heart, forced herself to relax and as she did so, she realised the pounding wasn't hers. It was _his_. It was his heart beating rapidly against her back and she was stunned.

It was frightening for him, to be this close, but he did it anyway. Not for the first time, she wondered if she knew anything about Daryl Dixon at all.

When she woke in the morning, she was toasty warm.


	7. Holiday

Thanksgiving. A stupid ass holiday at the best of times. It got celebrated for all the wrong reasons in the Dixon household before the world went to shit and now…well what did they really have to be thankful for?

They were barely alive. Things were only just starting to settle into some semblance of a routine, but past experience told him to never take it for granted. The CDC was supposed to be safe. The Greene farm too. Then the prison. Every single one of them had gone to shit.

Birthdays didn't matter anymore. Or Christmas or Valentine's day. Certainly not Thanksgiving. So why the hell was Carol asking him to hunt out a turkey?

He hoped to fuck that he would find anything but a turkey. Couldn't afford to turn down any meat, but he'd be glad for a dozen squirrels over the giant bird. Just so he didn't have to put up with the laughter that would come from the rest of them.

There would be nothing else to set the meal apart from any other they ate. It wouldn't be any different to any other day. So really, he had no reason to let it piss him off, but still it did.

He was even more pissed off when he heard the familar scuffling of wild turkey that practically threw itself into his path. His finger hesitated on the crossbow trigger for a split second, but he pressed anyway, the thing fell dead with a small strangled cluck.

Fuck. Now, they were going to be uncontrollable.

He dragged it off his shoulder as he entered the kitchen, where Carol sat at table, peeling some vegetables and cooing at the baby, babbling away in her rocker, sitting atop the wood.

She didn't even give me a glance as he slammed the door shut and he hoisted it up into the air, swinging it in front of her face.

She backed up in the chair, using her potato peeler to push it over enough to see his face.

"Thank you, Daryl." She gave me a roll of her eyes, but her lips curved up into a smile.

As he stomped back outside he heard murmuring away to the baby. "Yes, I know Judy, Uncle Daryl is definitely showing off…"

He snorted to himself. _Showing off? Uncle Daryl?_ He would have to quash that shit, and quick.

Two hours later, he could smell the bird cooking from where he worked, down in the shed, sharpening a bunch of knives up. It made his mouth water and his stomach rumble.

But he wasn't going up there. Thanksgiving was stupid, that was that. He heard Carl yelling out for him a little while later and he hollered back that he wasn't hungry.

A few minutes later, he heard the shed door creak open, a touch of the fading daylight sliding in.

"Hey, come on." Carol leaned on the door frame. "It's on the table, getting cold."

"I ain't hungry. I'll eat it later." He looked up at her, twisting the tie of her cardigan in her fingers.

"Then just sit with us. The kids are asking for you to be there."

He snorted. "Yeah, I bet." The only kid that seemed to want to see him was Ass-kicker but he figured that as bright as she was, despite not even crawling yet, asking out for him was not within her capability.

"They want us to all eat together." She shifted from foot to foot. "Please."

Fuck. He hated when she used that voice. That quiet, pleading tone that usually meant he gave her whatever she wanted. His hands kept working on the knives, even though his head already told him he would be downing tools any minute and heading up with her.

"Daryl." She took a step forward, fingers brushing over his shoulder. "I know it's stupid, alright? I know. But they're just children. Let them have this, just today."

Daryl sighed, set the knife down. He stole a glance at her and she shrugged.

"Fine."

The others didn't stop chatting about the holiday, the things they were thankful for, old memories and the like.

He sat in silence at the table, Judith balanced on his knee as he ate with one hand. He liked this kid. Didn't answer him back or give him any shit. Her needs were basic, food and sleep. He could handle that.

He knew the others hid their laughter on the fact, watching him with her. But fuck them, he didn't care. This kid was amazing.

Funny though, when all the food was eaten, those who were so eager to have a thanksgiving weren't so keen on the aftermath.

The dishes were left on the table and Carol didn't complain as she started stacking the leftovers into containers. Daryl collared Beth as she made to skip into the hall, passing her the baby.

He picked up the tea towel and dried plates in silence, stacking them on the counter.

"Thank you. For today." Carol broke the silence as she wrung the dish cloth out, moving to wipe the countertops down. "Not just the turkey. But you know…coming."

"Yeah well, turns out I was hungry after all." He muttered.

She let out a little laugh, bit her bottom lip. "We have so much to be thankful for, you know. Even if it doesn't feel like it."

He rolled his eyes. How did she figure that one?

"We do. We're alive. We have a healthy baby here, couple of wonderful kids. Food in our bellies and a roof over our heads." She stopped her wiping motions and turned to face him. "By rights, we should be alone now, all our families are gone. But we're not. We have each other."

She touched his cheek with her damp fingers and moved past him to the sink.

Well, there was that.


	8. Goodnight

"What the hell you been puttin' on these sheets?" Daryl pulled the coverlet back gingerly, a floral scent wafting up from between the covers and making his lip curl.

"I found some fabric softener." Carol frowned as she watched him sniff the cover suspiciously, before hesitantly slipping under it, frowning all the while.

"It smells like…I don't know.._weird_."

"It smells_ clean_, that's what it is." Carol shook her head and hung up her cardigan, watching him with amusement as he treated the bed as though it would hurt him somewhat.

"Get in here, woman." He groused at her and she followed him under the sheets, trying to not get jostled as Daryl punched his pillows into his desired shape.

It was though he never slept in a bed, each night like his first in it as he struggled to settle down.

"You find those pills Hershel needed?" She asked as she fumbled to blow out the candle. The older man had wanted various medicines, stronger painkillers, and Daryl had volunteered to make the run alone. There was so much to do at this new place, they could hardly spare him, even for a day.

"Yeah. Just a bottle though." Daryl turned on his side to look at her as she snuggled into the warmth of the sheets, curling her fingers around her pillow.

"Better than nothing."

"Imma go further out tomorrow, see what's there."

Carol sighed into the pillow and pursed her lips. "I don't see why you have to go again."

"'Cause I'll go batshit crazy if I gotta pull up another potato, that's why." He leant over and fingered the slipped strap of Carol's nightgown, settling it over her shoulder properly.

"It's worth it, to have a decent meal."

"Pfft. Ain't worth my sanity." He scoffed at her, hand skimming up from her shoulder to her cup her jaw.

Carol could feel her breathing shallow out as he leaned forward, pressed his lips to hers gently.

She responded in kind, winding her hands into his hair and pushing the length of her body up against his. His tongue was hot and wet, running over the roof of her mouth.

Her eyes sprung open when she remembered she had news of her own.

"Mmm! We had an exciting day here today." She pulled back to look at Daryl properly. "Judy said her first word."

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yep. Wanna know what it was?"

Daryl nodded but he figured it'd be something boring, like Dada or bottle.

"Daryl. Her first word was Daryl." Carol broke into a grin and brought her hand back to his face.

"Don't lie, woman." He huffed, but he couldn't contain the grin that broke across his face.

"I'm not! We're eating lunch in the kitchen, had those squirrels you brought this morning strung up by the window and she pointed up at them, clear as a bell, "Daryl"." Carol let out a little laugh. "Carl was so mad, he's been trying to get her to say his name for weeks."

He stared at Carol, agape. He wanted to get up and wake the baby right that moment, get her to say his name for him.

"And when I put her to bed, all through her story, she kept looking at me, "Daryl, Daryl, Daryl". Like it were a song. It was so sweet."

"Huh." He had no words.

"She loves you so much." She whispered, pressing another kiss to his lips. "We all do."


	9. Babysitter

She woke up hazily to the realisation that she wasn't as warm as she should be. Carol had shared the narrow, thin mattress with Daryl for months and they'd perfected the art of fitting in it comfortably.

Her hand should've been resting on his chest, tucked under his shirt but it rested on her pillow instead. She finally managed to find the strength to open her eyes and spotted his head, not quite where it should be, but close enough nonetheless.

He sat on the cold cell floor, back up against the bunk and on his knees sat Judith, dark curls bobbing wildly as she jumped up and down on him.

"Quit it, kid." He told her quietly, pushing a colouring book further down his thighs towards her.

Judith let out a giggle, she clutched a purple marker in her chubby little fist and began furiously scribbling across the white page. What she lacked in finesse, she made up for with enthusiasm, so much so, the marker skidded off the page and left a purple trail over one leg of Daryl's pants.

"Hey! Watch it, Jude!" Daryl hissed his annoyance with the child and Carol stifled a giggle.

The child was none too perturbed, as ever, because never in her life had Daryl ever seriously told her off. She simply picked up the blue marker from the floor and thrust it in his face.

"You colour." She commanded in her lispy drawl, waggling the pen.

"No." Daryl retorted, pushing her fist away.

"_Yes._" Judith hissed. She was becoming quite the little madam, Carol had noted. At eighteen months or so, she had the entire group wrapped around her minute finger. They all bent to her will and Daryl was the worst.

Daryl let out a sigh. Carol knew without looking that he was rolling his eyes and undoubtedly would relent. His head turned to look back at her and she closed her eyes hastily, forcing herself to breathe slow and deep so that he would not know she was awake.

She knew what he was doing, checking to see that no-one would see him being bossed about by a toddler.

Apparently satisfied with her silence, she opened her eyes to see him hold out his hands to the little one.

"I want the yellow." He mumbled gruffly and Judith looked uneasily to the pile of markers on the ground, unable to know which one was called the yellow. She shrugged and held out the blue pen once more.

"No." He pushed her fist away. "The yellow. Find me the yellow."

Judith's brow crinkled and her lips pouted as she debated on which one was the yellow her favourite person wanted.

"It's the same colour as Beth's hair." He clued her in and her little face lit up with recognition, all but throwing the blue marker down and snatching up the yellow.

"Good girl." Daryl patted her head like a dog and yet again, Carol bit back a laugh. Watching the two of them interact was a comedy show in itself and it always made her heart glow when she saw the affection the two showed each other, in their own little ways.

They worked on the picture silently for awhile, heads almost touching as they bent over the paper seriously and every so often Daryl would request another colour with the tone of a surgeon wanting another tool and Judith would slap the correct one into his open and waiting palm.

Eventually, the little girl's attention started to wain and Carol could see her looking over Daryl's shoulder trying to see if she was awake. On one occasion she wasn't quick enough to close her eyes and the little girl beamed at her.

"Look!" She ripped the book out from under Daryl's hand and lifted it to show her.

Carol propped herself on one elbow and looked at it with a forced interest, one she was an expert on after having her own child.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart. Did you do that all by yourself?" She cooed and Judith nodded. Daryl let out a strangled noise that suggested he wanted to protest, but daren't get caught out. "It's wonderful, why don't you go show your daddy?"

"Yeah!" Judith scrambled upwards, markers forgotten and tore out of the cell, off to hunt out her father.

She reached out lazily and ran her hands through the hair on the back of Daryl's head and he twisted to look back at her.

"Enjoy a little colouring?" She mocked lightly and he scowled at her.

"I was givin' _you_ a lie-in." He argued.

She smiled softly. Her fingers twisted around the curling strands at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."


	10. Grief

There was no time to bury him. No time to even weep over his body. No sooner had Merle's legs crumbled underneath the weight of the Walkers, flesh torn from his flailing limbs, Rick was yanking him up to his feet, pulling him away from the backs of the horde.

"No!" Daryl cried out hoarsely, attempting to prise Rick's vice-like fingers from his waist.

"C'mon Daryl, it's too late, we gotta get out of here!" Rick's voice was smoky and choked, suffering from too much ingestion of the smoke canisters they'd released.

"But, my brother!"

"He's _dead_!" Rick roared at him and a second later, Maggie was there, pulling him by the back of his vest.

But Merle wasn't dead. He was crying out in fucking agony and as Rick threw him into the back seat of the car, he could still hear the screams. Could still hear them as they pulled up to the prison gates.

Maggie and Michonne got out first, leaving just him and Rick in the car and Daryl had to lean forward, press his palms into his eye sockets, just to stop the desire to vomit, to sob and scream.

Merle had been alive. All this time. And he'd only gotten ten minutes with him. Ten minutes of what? Nothing. Just fear and unanswered questions.

"He did it to save you." Rick cut through the deep breathes he had to take with the whispered words.

Daryl's lip curled in disdain.

"What the _fuck_ would you know 'bout it?" He snarled, throwing the back door open and storming out of the car, as fast as he could with his injured leg, dragging his crossbow behind him.

It was agony, to make the angry walk into the prison, ignoring Glenn and Carl's looks of confusion and act as though he didn't give a fuck what they thought. Fuck them. Fuck the lot of them.

He was going in to get the rest of his arrows then he was getting out of there. He was going hunting and right at that second, he didn't give a fuck if he came back.

He ignored the old man and Beth as he got in and in the corner of his eye, behind the bars of the block, he spotted people who hadn't been there before. They called out at the commotion, but he paid them all no mind, not even when Hershel made a comment about looking at his leg.

"Daryl, where are you going?" Rick called out as he made the fence, jogging towards him. "Brother…come on."

"Only brother I had is Walker food." Daryl grabbed Rick by his shirt front, practically spitting the words into his face and he let go quickly, pushing the other man back. "Get _lost_!"

He turned his back and he heard the other man's footfall on the gravel and he hobbled towards the fence, fingers fumbling at the cable tie holding it together.

A minute later, he could hear gravel crunching again and he whipped around. " I said fuck o-" The word died in his throat upon sighting Carol, staring him down a few feet away, the baby clutched tight to her breast.

"Daryl…" Her eyes were wet, her lip trembling.

"Get inside." He ordered her, turning away once more. He couldn't stand to look at her. She looked devastated and it was enough for his eyes to sting.

"You too."

"What is it with you people, huh?" He yelled at her and the baby let out a cry at the noise.

"I'm sorry about Merle. I'm so, so sorry." Carol took a step forward, reached out for him with her free hand and he jerked away from her, stumbling into the fence.

He shook his head. "Just leave me alone." He muttered.

He jumped when her fingers curled around his shoulder, tugging at him. Forcing him to look at her. The last thing he wanted was to look at her. For her to lure him in the way she always did these days, with soft gazes and uncertain smiles, kind words and warm touches. He didn't want his anger to disappear. Because after the anger, there would be sadness. Tears and pain. He didn't want to feel those. He never wanted to feel anything other than anger because that was all he could handle.

"Daryl. You can't go out there." She told him gently, her fingers trailing down his arm, over the grime, sweat and blood, to stop at his palm, sliding her fingers between his and squeezing tight.

"What? So Rick gets t'go crazy when Lori kicks it, even though he didn't even speak t'her all winter an' you wanna start on how you did after Sophia?" He tugged his hand away and ignored her hurt look, yanking the cable free and pushed his crossbow through the gap in the fence, gingerly getting his injured leg through first.

She threw her hand out to stop the wire closing, from separating them. "You going to make me bring the baby out there? I will. I won't let you go." The words weren't quite the threat that she meant, but Daryl had no doubt that she was serious. "If you need to yell at someone, I'm here. If you want…whatever you want, I'm here."

"You gonna bring him back?" He asked, mocking her. "Got some superpowers I don't know 'bout?"

She ignored his tone, poked her hand through the gap and tugged him.

"Get your leg fixed up. Get some food and water in you. Then if you still want to go, then go."

He could feel the anger ebbing away as she spoke and he knew that was her intention, to stall him enough so he ran out of steam.

The baby let out another wail, a short sharp cry that he already knew that meant she wanted feeding. Give her another minute or two and she'd be yelling the place down, dragging every Walker for miles to them.

It was the last thing he needed. With his leg all fucked up, he needed stealth rather than speed, but if he was already spotted, then it was a worthless attempt. So he would let her think she had won him over and didn't resist as she tugged him through the wire, watched him tie it back up carefully.

She stood behind him, baby in one hand, his crossbow in her other and he took it from her and lead the way in.

_Merle was dead._

The thought hit him like a tons of bricks. Merle was dead because of him. He died so Daryl could live. He stopped in his tracks, limbs trembling.

"Hey."

"He's gone. He threw himself at the Geeks, so I could get outta there." He murmured into the air.

"I know." Carol drew her bottom lip into her mouth, reached out and put her hand on his chest.

"He was brave."

The tears he was desperate to avoid broke free, tumbling down his cheeks and he wiped them away fiercely.

"And he loved you. To do that…he must have loved you more than anything."

"It's my fault." He told her in a shamed whisper.

"No. Merle made his own decision. You know that. You knew him better than anyone but even I know that Merle would never have done something unless her wanted to." Carol tugged on his shirt to get him to fall in line with her and he submitted with shaking legs.

"Here." She leaned into him, wrapped her arm around his waist, trying to help him along. There was no way he was going to let her, especially when she was carrying the baby, but he let her think he was using her as a crutch, it was soothing to feel her warmth against him.

"We're gonna get through this. I_ promise._"


	11. Innocence

There was something very innocent about the way he kissed her. Chastely. Sweetly. Like he was frightened of hurting her. Of breaking her with the softest press of his lips on hers.

She could have sworn sometimes, that he hadn't kissed anyone at all before her. But she didn't quite believe it. Not after he'd warmed up some and let loose the tension that racked his whole body.

He never touched her without permission. Even if it was just a questioning look, he never put a fingertip on her skin without checking that it was alright with her.

He looked at her naked body like it was a marvel. Like a little boy in a candy store and when she stepped forward into his reach, navel level with his face, she thought he might pass out with nerves. Excitement. She couldn't tell. His leg bobbed up and down furiously, foot tapping a frantic rhythm.

She knelt in front of him, rested a hand on his knee to cease it's movement and she swore she heard his breath hitch.

"Hey." She tipped his chin so his eyes met hers. "This is good." His head bobbed an agreement, as small as the gesture was. "This is _right._"

She let go of his chin and his head tipped back down to her navel and he leaned forward. Pressed his mouth right above her bellybutton. She resisted breaking out into a giggle, lest she ruin the first bit of confidence with her he had ever shown.

When all was done and they lay twisted together between thin, sweaty sheets, she took the rare moment to look at him properly.

His hair was flopping over one eye, partially concealing his smooth brow. She'd never seen his face so relaxed before, not ever.

His lips were slightly parted, almost quirked, like he was far away in some wonderful dream. She wondered what he dreamed of.

In his sleep, he looked so peaceful. Innocent. Like a boy. Maybe she would have to be the one that was careful. Not to break him, ruin his innocence.


	12. Cold Embrace

The storage units were disgusting. Even by his standard. Unfortunately, what had intended to be a quick scavenge for anything for new camping gear, maybe some winter clothes, had ended with the whole lot of them barricading themselves in a corridor with eight storage units.  
They were herding, they'd figured that much out. The Walkers were grouping together and wandering in the same direction, although they hadn't figured out why exactly.  
The door was barricaded and then they unleashed the crowd of Geeks in one of the lockers and took care of them too. But the stench of death was inescapable. Not a window or a vent in sight to take a breath of fresh air.  
Most of the units were piled high with junk. Crap that Daryl couldn't believe people would pay to keep.  
There was just one more to give the all clear and he smashed the hinges of the door to pieces and pulled it open, stepping aside for T-Dog to go in with the flashlight, bat raised.  
"What the hell is this?" The other man muttered.  
Daryl pulled his own light out and stopped behind T-Dog's shoulder.  
"That." He cleared his throat. "That is about quarter of a mil of coke."  
To his credit, T-Dog did not ask how he knew such facts, instead just wondered out loud, who dared store drugs in a storage container?  
Whoever they were, Daryl was grateful. Because not only was there drugs, there was plenty of other things, things that were of far more value now. Guns. Lots of guns.  
Money, well they could burn that. Not in the storage lockers, not with no decent ventilation, but it was dry, safely tucked into gym bags and would be easy to burn up.  
The jewelry had no use, trinkets and baubles that to his eye were tacky and served no purpose but he didn't do more than roll his eyes as Beth cooed and ahhed over them, finally snapping a sparkly, jangling bracelet around her wrist.  
He watched Carol from the corner of his eye as strings of pearls slid through her fingers, smiling softly as they clattered against each other. Her other hand rested on the pendant around her neck, the small cross zipping back and forth across the chain.  
She didn't touch it so much anymore. Didn't ever say much about God or Jesus. He'd never been on for that religion stuff, never saw nothing good in putting your faith in something that you couldn't see, but it made him sad.  
She'd lost something that had brought her comfort. He didn't like that. There was nothing else to hold onto in this world and it had never interfered with their survival.  
"We'll have to stay in here tonight. It's the best one." Rick told them with a resigned sigh, dragging aside an empty box.  
"It stinks." Beth wrinkled her nose and Carl's face was similar, despite his attempts at mirroring his father's stoic expression.  
"Yeah." Glenn sighed and helped Rick pull aside the empty and useless boxes and bags.  
He took charge of tugging the fallen Walkers as far away from them as possible. Stacking them in another unit to try and alleviate the stench.  
It was freezing. No surprise in what basically a steel box. But they were not prepared for the cold snap. Didn't have nearly enough.  
When he turned back to the group, they sat hunched in a circle, splitting open the few bottles of water that somebody, thankfully, had remembered to bring. Their food was sitting up in the cars and he knew they were all thinking the same thing - that no member of the living would roll up and snatch up their hard earned supplies while they sat locked in a giant tin can.  
He shook her his head when Carol passed him her half-drunk bottle and instead slid down the wall of the storage locker a couple of feet away from her, dropping his crossbow between them.  
"Daryl." She hissed his name lowly and suddenly the bottle landed in his lap forcefully. He twisted his head to give her a filthy look. Her breath was visible as she breathed and he suddenly got chills of his own. She didn't even flinch and he quickly realised that there was something not quite right about her. Something that didn't fit.  
He shook the thought away, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as Rick rattled on about giving it four hours and then trying to make a break.  
He couldn't have been asleep long, no more than a half hour, but the place had quietened down, just the faint moan of Walkers outside and the odd soft snore of one of the others.  
Daryl leant forward, cracked his limbs softly. There was one torch left on, up near Rick and Carl and it cast the barest of glows over towards where he sat. He heard a shuffle on his right and remembered Carol was sitting closest to him.  
She shivered and he realised she wasn't asleep.  
"A'right?" He murmured, moving the crossbow aside.  
"Mmhm." Carol wrapped her arms around herself once she's sat up properly. "Just cold, is all." One palm rubbed up for bicep, over her shoulder and collarbone. As her finger tips brushed her clavicle, he realised what was up, her necklace was gone.  
"Where'd it go?" He nodded at her neck.  
She looked at him quizzically for a second and then her fingers flexed against her skin as she realised what he meant.  
"Oh. I - I don't need it anymore."  
Well. What was he was supposed to say to that? Why the fuck did he even ask?  
But it seemed even though he didn't ask for an explanation, Carol was giving it to him. She scooted over a little, so he could feel her body heat, not that there was all that much of it.  
"I decided...I mean, I've been thinking on it a good while now...and I decided to put my faith in what has been tried and tested for a good long while now and hasn't failed me yet."  
He raised one eyebrow at that, tilted his head to get a good look at her. Wondered what the hell she was going on about.  
She shivered a little more.  
"I decided to put my faith in you."  
They both stilled. Daryl's heart swelled with - well, he wasn't altogether sure. Pride? Maybe. But it sunk too. She was setting herself up for a world of disappointment if she was betting all her chips on him.  
"Sorry." She took a deep breath. "That came out wrong. I mean to say. I am putting my faith in people. In us. Me. You. The group. The people who have kept me going so far."  
That sounded a little better. Even made him crack a smile.  
Carol nudged his shoulder. "Didn't mean to freak you out." She whispered, crossing her arms back over her front.  
"Ya didn't." He cleared his throat. "'Sides, used to you an' your crazy talk." He kept his voice light, but he knew she wouldn't take offence. They'd gotten comfortable with each other over the winter. Knew what each other's limits were. "Now get some rack."  
She shuddered once more, knocking his shoulder and he let out a little sigh. "C'mere." He tugged her legs into his lap and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her into the heat of his own body. Thank fuck the light was low. He'd give her an hour, then she'd have to make do. He couldn't be doing with all the gossipy crap that seemed to takeover the group when they were bored.  
She buried her face into the front of his vest and sighed with contentment. As she relaxed into him, he wondered if maybe if what she had said to him had come out right after all.


	13. Skinny Dipping

Was he fucking seeing things? The sun was still not quite up, the water a little murky but he was pretty sure that was Carol floating in the water in front of him and she was bare-assed naked.

"Are you crazy?" He called down to her as he made his way down the bank towards her. He'd woken up to find her spot empty in the camp and Maggie had pointed him in the direction of the glorified pond. He'd thought maybe she'd be washing clothes. Maybe washing up with a flannel. He did not expect this.

Carol snapped to attention at his call but she seemed unperturbed by him watching her. "I cannot remember the last time I had a proper bath." She kicked up her feet and they floated to the surface, her chest rising up too, hard, rosy nipples crowning the rippling water.

Fuck. She was a piece of work. She knew exactly what she was doing. He felt a tightening in his pants and turned away from the sight of her, before she noticed.

"Hurry up, I got better things t'do then watch after your ass." He snorted at his choice of words.

"There's nothing here. Maggie's got watch." He heard her splash a little. "Come on in, Lord knows you could do with a wash."

"You're gonna get sick." He warned her, although it was half hearted.

"The chill wears off. It's nice actually. Bring my cloth and soap whilst you're at it."

He snorted once more. "I ain't gettin' in." But he bent down at her pile of discarded clothes, gingerly pushing aside her bra to reach for the washcloth and the bottle of liquid soap.

"It's not like I haven't seen that lilly white behind before, Daryl." Carol's laugh cut clear through early morning silence and she kicked deeper into the water, further away from him. "I'll even turn away whilst you get in, if that makes you feel better." She made a big demonstration of turning away from him, palms outstretched as if that somehow did something.

It was appealing. Very appealing. He knew he stunk. He glanced down at his arms and wondered what colour his skin even was under the dirt. He couldn't remember the last time they'd had proper washes. The Greene farm, maybe.

"Not going to get another chance, Daryl." She called out in a sing song voice. "I think I'll bring Judy down here when the water warms up some. S'going to be pretty busy down here when they all wake up."

Well that settled it then, he'd be damned if he was going to do this with an audience. He shucked off his clothes quickly, laying his knife on top of them, just in case.

The water was fucking freezing. He thought his nuts might have shrivelled up and fallen off. He decided to brave it and dunked himself under, Carol's wash stuff in one hand. "_Fuck_." He hissed under his breath and Carol turned around.

"Not that bad, huh?" He hissed at her as he waded his way over to her, virtually throwing her things in her direction.

She smirked. "Don't be such a baby."

She was jerking his chain. When had Carol gotten so goddamned flirty? Sure, they'd exchanged a couple of kisses, especially over the last few months, since leaving the prison, but never had they been like this. And never had they been buck ass nude either.

She squirted soap into her hand and lathered up her hair. It was getting pretty long, longer than his these days, especially after his last butchering on his own unruly mop. He'd definitely not turn down Carol's offer of a haircut next time she asked. She was a sight to behold, as she massaged her scalp, soap suds sliding down her neck and over her chest.

"Something wrong?" She asked, frowning. She ducked down without waiting for an answer, rinsing herself off.

He snatched up the floating soap bottle and squirted it straight onto the top of his head and distracted himself from her naked form, because now she was closer he could see her clearly through the water. The last thing he needed was the image of her without clothes, it was a distraction that was bound to get him in some kind of trouble.

"Want me to do your back?" Did he have water in his ears? She wanted to do his back? _Fuck_.

Carol didn't wait for an answer, just snatched up the washcloth and floated around him. He spun around to face her and she let out a little chuckle.

"Back first." She smirked and put one hand on his shoulder and forced him to turn back around.

She was soft with the cloth, working her way from his neck and across his shoulder blades, stopping intermittently to lather up more soap.

He didn't say a word. Didn't know what the hell to say anyway. This shit was fucking scary. Her knees bumped up against his ass as she floated behind him and after the third or fourth time he stopped jumping. It was Carol. The closest...whatever. The closest person. Period. She didn't judge. Didn't laugh. Not at the things that mattered.

"I don't know how you get so dirty. On your back of all places. I swear, you must go rolling around in the mud before you come back to camp." Carol murmured the words into his ear, slowing her movements between his shoulder blades.

Her body was pushed right up against his now and he could feel her breasts pressing into his back. Daryl was suddenly grateful for the freezing water, otherwise he would be suffering with a raging boner.

"We should do this more." Carol continued her one-sided conversation, unperturbed with the lack of response from Daryl.

He gave her a side-eye.

"Have some quiet time. You and I. Never get any privacy these days."

Daryl cleared his throat, her hands were making her way under the water, stopping at the curve of his ass. "Yeah, well there's that whole Walker invasion goin' on an' all."

She smiled, that sweet smile that he hardly ever got to see. "Yeah, I'd heard something about that." Her legs had stopped moving, resting either side of his hips and he was painfully aware of how much of her was touching so damned much of him.

As if she knew his mind, her feet hooked around his knees, arms came around his shoulders and she made a show of washing his chest, but he knew she wasn't paying any attention to what she was doing. Just as he wasn't paying attention. All he could focus on was the fact that her tits were up against his shoulder blades, her pussy resting against the small of his back. It had been forever, since he'd gotten this close to someone and never like this. Definitely not like this.

Despite the cold, he thought his dick was coming to life and he wondered if he could manage sex under water. Never tried it, but was willing to give it a go. God knows when they'd have another opportunity, she wasn't wrong about the lack of privacy.

"Hey!" The voice was loud, cutting through their peaceful silence harshly.

Carol unlocked her grip from around him instantly and slid lower into the water as Daryl groaned heartily.

"Get lost, Glenn!" He called back out to the younger man, standing on the brow of the embankment.

"Is it warm in there?" Glenn was oblivious and took another step towards them. Carol clutched her arms over her breasts and took a step backwards, attempting to shield herself behind Daryl. "Wait...are - are you guys _naked_?"

"I said, get lost!"

Glenn floundered as he realised their predicament, stepping from foot to foot before slapping a hand over his eyes and darting off.

Daryl turned back to Carol and she smiled coyly at him, hands still clutching at herself. He cursed at Glenn and his always impeccable timing.

"Next time." She murmured as she waded her way towards shore, taking his hand and dragging him out with her.


	14. Never Again

He wouldn't be so foolish to think such things again. To believe that he could have her and have her completely. It had taken so long to admit it, but he loved her. He _loved_ Carol.

But not more than a few weeks after finally getting his shit together and telling her it was over. Living a life with her, rather than the side by side existence they'd had for so long, enjoying her being close it made him_ happy_. He couldn't recall ever feeling like that before.

And now it was ruined. She was dead. Gone. Killed. Not a Walker. Never had a chance to see her rise up again. Dead at the Governor's hands.

This was his fault. He shouldn't have let her go. Shouldn't have let her fight. But he loved her. She wanted to go, to hold her own and he let her. He let her because he _loved_ her. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to do what she wanted to do.

He wasn't even there. Didn't see nothing until her body had started turning cold. That was the worst bit. Didn't get a chance to say goodbye. Get to look at her one last time. Get to tell her he was sorry. Make her last minutes better than they had been.

She bled out. Alone. In pain. He could see the tears that had dried on her blood stained cheeks. That was the worst thing.

Never again would he find someone like her. Never again would he let himself love someone. Because he killed her. He failed. He was dangerous. He didn't deserve her. Anyone. He would hurt them.

It was ruined. She was gone. He was at fault. She was perfect. She was whole. He ruined her. Because he_ loved_ her.


	15. Online

There's no way I could do this challenge without being AU, but I thought I would give it a go. ;) No ZA, set in the same year though.

God, he fucking hated computers. Hated how you couldn't see how they worked. What was wrong with talking to someone on the telephone? Or face to face? _Or not at fucking all?_

It sucked that he needed the goddamned thing for work. That he had to have a lesson from some baby faced smug prick of a 19 year old who laughed every time he pressed the wrong key. He felt three times his age every time he switched the thing on.

And then he'd gone and left the damn thing up and running before going out on a hunt.

He'd half expected to find it smashed to bits somewhere or the thing filled with something the kid had called viruses, because he knew Merle would be looking up porn if he got his hands on it. But it was as he left it. Or so he thought.

It had been fine until he clicked the icon for his e-mail.

How the _fuck _did he have 219 fucking emails?

He got exactly two emails a day, both from his supervisor with his delivery routes.

_What the fuck was OkCupid? _

Daryl clicked open the first that had popped into his inbox.

**Welcome to OkCupid!...**_Wait, welcome to what? _

Fuck. He scrolled through each one. **You have a new message. You have a new message. You have a new message. **

There was a link to the message in each e-mail and he finally plucked up the courage to click on it, opening a new window. As the thing loaded, slowly it finally clicked with him as to what OkCupid was. A dating site? How the hell had this happened?!

The message loaded.

"Sent from...hotmama76." He mumbled to himself as he pulled out a chair and resigned himself to having to sort through the crap.

**Fuck you, you jerk.**

Why would some girl send him that? How the fuck did he work this goddamned site?

It took an hour, three cigarettes and a cup and a half of coffee before he figured out what had gone on. Merle, or one of his dumb ass friends, seeing as Merle only had one hand these days, had gone and set up an account with a dating site.

The profile was awful. Absolutely terrible. They hadn't gotten a picture of him, thank fuck, so there was just a grey box in the top left hand corner. His username made him sit out a mouthful of coffee. TheBigDickedD. He was going to fucking _murder_ Merle.

But at the same time, he had to fucking hand it to the idiot, the plan was fucking priceless. If it hadn't been a joke on him, he'd've found it hysterical.

_Hi, I'm Daryl and I'm ready to get fucked by some sexy sluts tonight._

Oh God, he wanted to puke.

_I've got a dick the size of chipolata but I know how to work it. I've gotten several years practicing on ploughing it in apple pies and my kissing skills are better than a horse's._

_I'm looking to fuck any whore that's dumb enough to have me. Fatties need not apply._

Great. Fucking great. What was even better is that they'd sent a message to practically every woman in Georgia offering up his sexual services. The messages ranged from creepy to downright gross.

And needless to say, the responses were not favourable.

**Fuck you, dickwad.**

**Why the hell would you do this? **

**I hope you get an STD and your dick drops off, loser.**

**ASSHOLE.**

He stopped clicking on them after reading _lonelyAtlantamama66'_s 500 word diatribe about what a shitty human being he was.

It took another two cigarettes and a beer before he finally gave up on trying to delete the damned profile. But he did manage to find the edit button and he viciously hit the backspace key repeatedly until every foul word disappeared. He deliberated on leaving it blank but he figured maybe he could do a bit of damage control.

**This profile was made by my brother. Sorry for any rude messages.**

He needed dinner. He needed a fucking punchbag and a fifth of tequila but he'd settle for a sandwich.

By the time Daryl had gotten back to the table and taken another look at the inbox, three more messages had appeared.

The first two were more abuse, judging by the subject titles. But the third one, that caught his eye. Instead of words in the subject, there were just two symbols, which he had learned only recently was a smiley face.

He clicked the message. Her user name was _GeorgianCarol71 _and before he read the message, his eye caught the little square that contained her picture on the top. It was a closeup of her head and shoulders, she had short hair, so short it was almost stark, but it suited her. Showed off her features. She was pretty. Twinkly, blue eyes and she smiled brightly, her tongue just poking out through her teeth, making her look mischievous.

**I figured you'd gotten pranked. No harm, no foul. :)**

And there it was again, that little smiley face. It was reassuring that at least one person didn't hate his guts without even knowing who the fuck he was.

So reassuring, that his fingers flexed across the keyboard clumsily, hestitantly typing out a response.

**My dumbass brother. Gotten enough abuse from women to last me a lifetime. **

He clicked send without thinking and hovered the mouse over her profile. It flashed green and he clicked it, just curious enough to take a closer look. Not that he was gonna do anything about it.

**My name is Carol, I'm 41 and I live just outside Atlanta. I'm a mom to a 12 year old girl and up until recently I was a homemaker. Since my divorce last year I've been working as a classroom assistant at a kindergarten as well as finishing up my qualification to become a teacher. **

Damn, this woman was smart. _A lady._ What the fuck did she even respond for? He was just about to finally give up and shut the stupid machine down when the inbox flashed, indicating another message.

Why not take one more round of abuse, he thought with a sigh.

But it wasn't abuse. It was her again. Carol.

**I'm sure you'll get over it. ;) Maybe you should set about to changing that profile around and using it properly. Might find you get something better than threats.**

He smiled at the screen. Couldn't help himself, as stupid as it was. But already he could imagine her, sitting hunched over a laptop, smiling that cheeky grin as she typed up her message.

He mulled it over a bit. Merle would laugh his ass off if he did anything with the goddamned website. Pushed away from the table to get another beer and considered the laptop, the glow of the screen lighting up the kitchen.

As the cap clinked on the counter he took a pull from the brown bottle and made his way back to the table.

The arrow hovered on the red X in the right hand corner. Let it linger as he looked at her picture once more.

Daryl let out a defeated sigh, put the beer down and clicked on _reply_.

**Not altogether sure on what I should be doing, maybe you could show me how?**

_Send._


	16. Midnight

Judith had taken to waking up every night as of late. Three years old and up until they moved into the old place, the deserted little hotel, she had slept as well as anyone could expect from a small child in the world they lived in.

They'd been on the road from years now, so it came as a surprise when little feet slapped across the cold floor and her little body burrowed her way under Carol's blankets, curling up into her favourite spot, right under her chin.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Carol whispered, pushing Judith's unruly curls off her face. They'd gotten darker over the winter months and was starting to look more and more like her father everyday. Carol did not mention that to Rick, although she was sure the other man knew.

"I gots scared." Judith whispered back, wrapping her little arms around Carol's torso, rubbing her nose into the fabric of her shirt. "Want Daryl to come to sleep too."

They'd been taking it in turns to sleep in the same bed with Judith. She'd gotten accustomed to sleeping beside them all. But her favourite was Carol. Probably because Judith was the most restless sleeper in the whole group, even worse than Daryl but Carol could tolerate them both. It never bothered her, not even when she woke up with no covers and a little foot in her face.

And so it continued. Five nights and she'd barely dropped off before Judith would wake, wake up Carol too and tell her about her nightmares. The usual childish things. Monsters were going to eat her or hurt her. Except the monsters did exist. And they very much wanted to eat her.

It was not easy to convince her that they would not let that happen. Not when she had seen the things she had seen.

By day six, she'd told Rick she would keep the little girl in her bed a little while longer, just until the nightmares passed and to help keep everyone's resting hours peaceful.

Daryl had been doing the night watches, mostly. Didn't get much chance to speak to him. Since they had to evacuate their last place, where Daryl almost had gotten bit, but Glenn had gotten there just in time, he'd been absolutely insistent on taking the night watch.

So when she got up, he took her spot in the bed. Judith would still be there, still groggy with sleep and Carol would watch them both as she pulled on her clothes and laid out the little girl's things ready for her on the footlocker.

Daryl tried to keep up the icy pretense sometimes. That she was just an annoying little kid that was under his feet. But Carol knew, he l_oved_ her. She'd curl up into his side, tuck her little feet into the palm of his hand and make him tell her exactly what he'd been up to all night. How many Walkers he killed, if he caught their dinner already, if ate breakfast before he came to bed, she wanted to know it all.

And when Daryl yawned and complained, she'd pat his forehead and tell him to close his eyes. That she would take watch. That'd raise a smirk out of him. Mostly because watch would last all off the three seconds it would take her to find Carol and demand her breakfast.

By day 12, it was getting tiresome and Judith was just plain _wriggly_. So when the little one fell asleep, Carol got up and pulled on her cardigan and went to find company of the more still kind.

He was outside when she'd gone into the kitchen, could see his flashlight off in the distance. Carol turned the lamp on in the window, so he knew she was there and the light grew larger as he returned to the building.

"What you doin' up?" He closed the screen door quietly, hung his string of game onto the window ledge.

She poured herself a glass of water, made one for him too.

"Miss Grimes is particularly active tonight." She said wryly, before sipping on the drink.

"Been doin' that a whole lot lately."

"Tell me about it. Haven't slept properly in at least a week."

"Put her back in with Rick." Daryl shrugged as if it were obvious. "You gotta rest too."

"She wants you. Doesn't like you being out there at night."

"Yeah, well I'm tryin' to stop her livin' the nightmares." He drained the glass and pushed it onto the table.

"I know. I'm not _blaming_ you. You're keeping us alive. That's worth more than a few restless nights." She smiled at him, reached out and cupped his cheek. "See you tomorrow."

She rubbed her thumb across his cheekbone before returning to her bed.

The following night she had considered doing as Daryl suggested and putting her back in with Rick, but come the little girl's bed time, she could hear the hushed arguments going on behind Rick's bedroom door, Andrea's voice shrill and upset and swiftly moved on to her own bed.

Come midnight, she still hadn't managed a lick of sleep, waiting for Judith to wake. Instead, she was surprised when the door creaked open and standing in the threshold was Daryl.

He moved silently to remove his weapons and his boots, so quiet that when she closed her eyes, she didn't hear him. He crawled under the covers in his oily jeans, he'd been working on the bike that evening and the smell lingered. She'd normally chew him out for it, but tonight was the first night that he'd been in her bed with her in what seemed like forever. She'd take a little dirt for that.

"Who's on watch?" She asked, gently scooting Judith over a little to make room for Daryl.

"Andrea." He mumbled into her neck. "Go to sleep." He jerked the blankets up to their neck, pressed his fingers into her waist.

Not more than half an hour later, the familiar sensation of a warm wiggly body woke her up. Judith turned to face Carol and the woman opened one eye.

But Judith stayed silent, pressed her hand onto Daryl's cheek, lodged firmly in Carol's neck and sighed.

She said nothing more, just turned back over and drifted off quickly back to sleep.


	17. Separation

Carol did not like being parted from him. As silly as it sounded, even to her own ears, it hurt to have such separation.

Ten years. Ten years since she met Daryl Dixon. Ten years since Sophia died. Ten years since the world turned upside down and made everything so different.

And it had taken half of that time for the two of them to acknowledge what they meant to one another. _Everything_. He meant everything.

He rarely left. In fact, no-one left the camp very often. They made everything needed. Grew it, reared it. If they couldn't do it themselves, they tried not to need it. Ten years without the necessaries of the old world had given them plenty of time to get used to being without.

Carol learnt how to make wool. Found a book and got to it. Could make a weapon out of a piece of wood. Learnt to fix fevers and stomach bugs with plants and flowers. How to fix up a shirt so that it fit a toddler until she was eleven.

By now, the things of a time long passed were gone. There were no more medicines. She couldn't remember the last time that she ate food out of a tin. Drank something other than water, except the teas she'd been learning to brew from wild plants.

She'd stopped missing them. Stopped missing things that just didn't matter. Washing machines. Chocolate. Television.

Couldn't stop herself missing him though. Two days it had been. Two in what was expected to be a week. Daryl, Rick, Carl. All had gone on to hunt out the two things they really did need that the old world provided. Bullets and fuel. Getting more scarce by the day. Controlled by few people.

But their group, known as Camp McIntosh, had other things. They had the luxury of coastline in their camp, where they could fish freely. They'd managed to rear livestock, even gotten chickens in their last trade off and under Hershel's watchful eye, they were growing quite a sizeable farm. He couldn't do much of the physical labour, not with one leg and old age running against him, but he passed on the knowledge, for when he wasn't there anymore.

So they would take their livestock, their homemade medicines. Jars of chutneys and bags of Carol's best jerky. Trade them for the things that they wanted.

Daryl wasn't agreeable to it at first. Too many members of the living had tried to hurt them. Tried to separate them. But Rick had made them understand, it wasn't just about gaining things, but about building relations. Trust among groups. If not for their sake's, but for the sake of the children. For Judith. Others that would eventually come into their broken world.

So she pushed down the burning pain of not sleeping beside Daryl. Feeling his warmth down the length of her. Of making three less meals for dinner and double checking the perimeters because the ones who would usually do it weren't there.

But she only truly felt the agony of having half her heart missing, when it was vocalised by the other great love of her life, Judith.

She hadn't intended on being a mother again, but it was a role she fell into naturally and without conscious thought on anyone's part.

"Carol, when they are comin' home?" The child, rested her chin in her hands, slumped over the kitchen table.

"Soon, baby." She ruffled Judith's scruffy curls, before passing behind her to stir a pot simmering on the stove.

"I miss Daddy. And Daryl _promised_ we'd get to try out those arrows I made."

"You will, Judy. Soon. A few days. Your daddy and Carl will be here, Daryl too." She smiled over her shoulder and Judith's bottom lip kicked out. She forced herself to turn away, to help her hold back the tears. Her eyes stung from it.

"But what if they Walkers get them?"

"They _won't_." She told Judith firmly. "They know what their doing. They want more than anything, to come home to us. When you want something that bad, you can make it happen. They love us, just as much as we love them."

"So if I wish it really, really hard, they'll come back?"

"Yes." Carol pulled away from the stove to stand behind Judith, smoothed out her hair. "In five days or so." She laughed a little and Judith twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile. "Now go wash up and come help me make this bread."

She waited until she was in the privacy of her bedroom, their bedroom, before she let the tears fall. But she gave herself ten minutes and then forced herself to stop. She would not dwell, she would keep busy to help time pass faster.

She'd hoped they'd come back early but they hadn't. Day seven dawned and she spent most of it looking out the window, kept an eye on the dirt track that could be seen for miles. She spent the entire day at the stove. Made all their favourite dishes for dinner that night. Rabbit stew for Rick. Chicken and mushroom pie for Carl. Steak and potatoes for Daryl. Made up three different desserts, brought out the bottle of scotch that they kept stored away for special occasions.

By 3pm, she started getting antsy. Wouldn't let her brain run through all the horrible possibilities. She had to let Hershel deflect Judith's questions, because she couldn't bring herself to choke out the words she believed wholeheartedly, but still pained her to say. He _would_ come home. They all would.

In the end, she didn't even hear the truck pull up. She'd struggled with lighting the dining room fire with her trembling hands and had spilled soot and dust all over the floor. She'd been angrily scraping it all into a dustpan when she heard Judith's whoop of delight out in the yard and by the time she'd picked herself up off the floor, leaving black dust in her wake, the truck was already parked out front, the spoils of the journey mostly unloaded.

Her eyes picked out Carl straight away, taller than both Daryl and his father, a baseball cap twisted backwards on his head, it had been a long time since he'd worn the sheriff's hat, but she knew it was stashed away somewhere safe. Rick came second, hopping off the truck bed with fuel cans in hand.

"Hey!" He called out, waving a hand in Carol's direction, before taking the cans in the direction of the storage shed. She gave me a wide smile, but didn't linger, kept her eyes peeled for her hunter.

And then, like magic. She knew he was near. Could feel it. Like a little bubble of heat had burst in her heart and was slowly spreading it's way through her limbs. Daryl's head popped out from the door of the storage shed and he hollered out to Carl to pass him something.

He looked up. Locked eyes with him. They stared at each other for a moment, neither moving. Then Carl came ambling towards him, elbowed him out of the way to get into the shed and the moment was broken, Daryl turned and threw a curse out at the young man, who Carol still thought of as a boy.

They were busy. There was a lot to do and she remembered that she had a dinner to serve. So, she turned on her heel and returned to the kitchen, letting the others help with the unloading and she could already hear Carl regaling Beth and Judith with his adventures.

Carol was just about to call them all to sit down for dinner when the porch door gave a creak and Daryl came in silently. She always knew it was him, without looking, simply because aside from the door, he made no noise. He was like a ghost.

"What happened to you?" He greeted, running a finger over her cheek and presenting it to her. His fingertip was black.

"Lost a fight with the fireplace." She murmured, plating up the steaks. Daryl snorted and moved around out of her way as she served up.

They had barely touched and she could feel herself coming to life. Like every second spent in his company revitalised her. Brought her back to life.

She stopped her fussing and set the cutlery down, took his hand in hers.

"I'm glad your home."

Daryl's mouth quirked. Not quite a smile. No, those were rare indeed. He moved forward, pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth. He moved in an achingly slow manner, taking his time to catch her lips properly in his, pulled his hand out of hers and caught her round the waist.

Three seconds was all it took for her to batteries to be completely recharged. She was whole again. His lips slipped from hers and trailed down her jaw, before burying himself firmly in her neck.

"Come, next time." He mumbled into her skin. There was no time to respond, the door swung open and the whole group came tearing through, ignoring the two of them, still tangled up in each other, shouting and grinning about the spread on the kitchen table.

Carol pulled herself away, nodded once, just so he knew.

She would not be separated from him again.


	18. Baby

**Got motor mouth on this one. OOPS.**

In those last few days, before Carol gave birth, he couldn't help but look at her like she was a walking miracle. She was carrying his baby, it seemed like something like that could never happen to him.

He heard Maggie talking to Andrea about pregnancy making women look like they were glowing but in his opinion, that was a bunch of crap. Carol had been sick for the first half, violently vomiting almost every day. She'd gotten frailer, skinnier, weaker. The baby was sucking the life out of her and he found himself hating it before it was even born. It was half of him, _his fault_ and it was killing her.

By the time she'd started showing, her stomach swelling up but her face and limbs getting thinner, the vomiting had eased but she was instead plagued with a bad back, nausea and migraines that lasted for days.

She'd tried to hide it, he knew she hated the feeling of uselessness, but he could tell. She was in agony. And there was nothing he could do to help.

Daryl couldn't believe that they'd been this stupid. To let himself get carried away with her and to put this on her. They could barely cope with Judith when they had her. Then they lost her and it fucking devastated them all. Who were they fooling to think they could do this again?

He didn't want this baby. He never voiced the thought, not to anyone. He knew how that would go down. Not just because they'd struggled so hard with Judith. But this baby was _killing_ Carol. Just a few days and she was due to give birth and Hershel had given him the talk.

He'd listened to her as she told the old man the trouble she'd had with Sophia. Unnamed babies that didn't see the light of day. He didn't understand the issues entirely, but he didn't need to. He could read the veterinarian's face. There was a good chance that Carol would go the same way Lori did.

It would fill him with shame later on, but he didn't hesitate to ask Hershel if he could perform an abortion with reasonable safety. He couldn't. So they had to see if through, in some vague hope that Carol would make it. He still wasn't sure if he wanted the added bonus of a healthy baby. Because it seemed kinder, not just for the baby, or for Carol, but for him too, to not have to deal with a child that would inevitably get taken from them by Walkers.

He'd spent months prepping for it. He went out every single day, traveled further than was safe to get what was necessary. He would not let her suffer the same fate as Lori. They were unprepared for Judith. It would not happen again.

Her waters broke early. He'd not been there, but by all accounts she'd been doing the dishes when it'd had happened. By the time he'd gotten in from his hunt, Beth was barking orders at him in a manner most unlike her, commanding him to wash up before he was allowed into the room.

He didn't even want to _go_ into the room. Took his time to scrub every little bit of dirt from his hands, digging right under his fingernails. They'd not discussed where he would be when she gave birth, but he didn't figure he'd be in the room. But somehow, his feet moved him to the door way, watching Carol groan in agony, clutching Beth's hand.

The young girl looked on grimly, but didn't protest to having her hand squeezed to the point where bones could be broken. And then Daryl realised, there was no-one else in their group who had experienced childbirth before. No-one knew how she felt, physically or mentally.

It was enough to push him further into the room, to brush Beth aside and take his place beside her. She took his hand quickly, turned her head and gave him a thin lipped smile.

"This baby is gonna be as impatient as you, I can tell." Carol groaned out and Hershel instructed her to do something else he didn't hear.

She'd turned white in the hours it took for the baby to come. A sickly pale shade, with a cold sweat running over her skin. He tried not to look worried, but he didn't really know if it was normal. She told him to go, could see he was struggling with it all, his utter silence through the entire day.

He just held her hand tight, wiped her brow every now and then, held a glass of water to her lips when she asked for it.

And just as the sun started to go down, Hershel called it time. Sent Beth to get more towels and water and instructed Carol to push.

The screams were inhuman and Daryl felt like screaming with her. The panic lodged it's self in his throat as Hershel told them he could see the baby's head.

"Hold her legs apart." The man demanded and Daryl took Carol's knee in his free hand, held it firmly. He hadn't intended to look, _down there_, the idea alone had bile coming up, but he'd gotten a glimpse and was mesmerized.

_His baby_. It's head was free and as Carol pushed, screaming as she did, the baby joined her, wailing heartily.

Covered in blood and white stuff for which he had no name, Hershel pulled the baby free and everything happened so fast he didn't even have time to panic. The squalling baby was thrust onto Carol's chest and both she and Daryl jumped to hold the baby firmly onto her skin. A boy.

"Beth, we've got some tearing here, once the placenta is out, we're going to stitch up." Hershel muttered to his daughter.

Carol was panting but she smiled up at him and he couldn't help but return it. "Told you it was a boy." He murmured and she only scoffed back.

"Daryl, I need you to cut the cord."

He was thrust into work without even a moment to embrace the fact that both Carol and the baby were fine.

It was hours later, once Carol was stitched and cleaned up. The baby washed and checked over, before they'd had any peace. The group had trouped in one by one to greet the new arrival and Daryl had almost told them all to get lost and wait until the morning, when the baby kicked up the biggest fuss ever, sending them all running. _Just like a proper Dixon_, he'd thought with a smile.

"Thought of any names?" Carol asked, latching the baby to her breast for his second feed. He took to it straight away, little hands plucking at Carol's freckled skin.

"Naw. You?" He reached out and stroked the baby's foot, poking out from the white blanket that he himself had wrapped him in.

"Do you think if I suggested Daryl Junior it would be too much of a cliche?" Carol asked.

He snorted. "We ain't namin' him Daryl. No way."

"I like your name!" Carol protested, shifting the baby a little.

"Yeah and it's_ mine_, I ain't sharin'." He said the words with a laugh in his voice and climbed into the bed beside her, watching the little one. Carol told him that all babies were born with blue eyes and that this baby's would likely stay blue because both he and Carol had them too, but he swore the baby's had changed in the hour.

The little one looked up at him with interest, staring intently as he fed. They'd started out bright, jewel in tone, but now they'd gone more like Carol's. Kid was far better off looking like his mother, in his opinion.

"Well, you're gonna be Daddy from now on, so what you need Daryl for, anyway?" Carol looked at him deadpan for a second and his face must've frozen unintentionally because she broke into laughter. Her chest heaved and the baby grunted in disapproval. "I've been waiting for you to lose it all day."

But she was right. _Fuck_. He was somebody's daddy. He didn't know how to respond to that. If she'd been inside his head, she'd've been acutely aware of the fact that he'd been losing his shit all damned day. He decided to change the subject back.

"Don't gotta decide yet, though, right?" He asked. His son's eyes had started drooping, his mouth falling slack. _His son._

"No. It can wait."

He'd taken the baby from her then, rubbed his back to wind him, remembering how she had taught him with Judith. They didn't have a proper bassinet, but the cot they did have seemed far too big for such a tiny baby. So as Carol drifted off for well-deserved rest, he threw his pillow to the floor and rested the baby between the two of them on the mattress.

How could he have resented this kid? He was perfect.


	19. Party

The party hadn't been her idea. But it had been her that mentioned that Judith's first birthday had to have been approaching but Beth had latched onto it, mentioned it to everyone who would stop listen and before Carol knew it, the girl was organising a party.

But Judith's birthday didn't only mark the first year of her life. It meant a whole since Lori had died. Since a lot of their friends had died. A year since they had made the prison their home, a year since they had fought tooth and nail for it. It was the first birthday they had acknowledged since the Walkers had come.

Paper chains were scattered everywhere, someone had found balloons, blown them up and threw them across the floor, making Judith squeal with delight. They didn't need presents or a fancy cake, just something as simple as a handful of pink balloons kept the little girl occupied for hours.

They'd all gathered in the cafeteria, and for once no-one was arguing. For once, _Merle _wasn't arguing with anyone.

A whole year since he'd come back. Causing as much pain and grief that he could muster up. They were each finding their ways to cope with him, for Daryl's sake. He'd mellowed a little bit, much to her relief.

And it had been Merle who'd gone on the run and rustled up the alcohol. Said something about no party being a good party unless whisky had been involved. So each person held a plastic cup of the amber liquid. Almost everyone. Only Hershel and Judith missed out. Carl pretended to drink it, but Carol smiled when she saw his nose scrunch up with each sip.

"Can't believe she made it a year." Daryl slumped into the seat next to her, breaking her thoughts and making her jump slightly. She still hadn't got used to the way he could move about silently.

"I know." Carol let out a little laugh to herself. "Can't believe any of us did, really."

Daryl fiddled with the bottle in his hand, swirling the liquid around the edges. He'd been drinking it straight, but even though it was half empty, he seemed perfectly lucid. Eyes were normal, words were coming out straight.

She sunk the last of her own cup, set it on the table. A balloon bumbled over in their direction, hit the toes of her shoes and Judith crawled over at lightening speed to retrieve it.

Carol leant over, smoothed a hand over her hair. "Happy Birthday, beautiful." She cooed. Judith shrieked with happiness and Daryl leant over too, pushed the balloon up into the air, inducing more high pitched squealing and Judith crawled away to chase it.

Daryl let out a little laugh, one only she could hear and straightened back up. She liked hearing him laugh. It was happening more and more frequently these days and whenever she heard it, she couldn't help but smile.

After that, they lapsed into silence, just the two of the them sitting shoulder to shoulder on the outskirts of the group, watching the others enjoy themselves. Occasionally Daryl would lean over, top up her cup.

By sundown, the baby grew tired, worn out with all the attention and the excitement and she fell asleep right under a table, surrounded my balloons. So Carol put her cup aside and scooped her up, ready for her own bed herself.

She heard footsteps behind her as she settled the baby into the cot. They had a real one now, set up in their cell, although Rick sometimes took his daughter himself. She didn't mind. When she stood up straight, she turned to look into the doorway, Daryl leant against it, still clutching the bottle of whisky by the neck.

He watched her silently as she went about tidying the tiny space up, not moving until she sat on the edge of the mattress and tugged her boots off.

"You on watch tonight?" She asked, tugging back the blankets.

Daryl took another swig from the bottle, held it aloft and shook his head. "Rick's got it."

Carol understood. Rick had mixed feelings for his daughter's birthday. She understood why he needed to be alone. Especially this first year.

She smiled. "Come on then."

Daryl screwed the cap back onto the bottle, tossed it onto the top bunk and pushed off the door frame, practically throwing himself onto her tiny bed.

It wasn't the first time they'd crammed themselves into a two foot wide cot. Not the first time at all. But it was the first time he'd shown quite as much enthusiasm for it and it made her heart flutter.

His face, rough with stubble, nuzzled into the back of her neck, nosing the hair the curled at the back of her neck aside to find her skin and she sighed sleepily.

As his fingers drummed a rough rhythm on her hip, she wondered if they could celebrate more birthdays more often.


	20. Game

It had become a game to her, he'd noticed. She loved to push his buttons, getting him all wound up.

And worse still, she did it in such small ways that he couldn't even call her on it, because if he did he would look like a total dick. Or worse, he could be totally wrong about the whole damned thing and look like an even bigger dick.

Besides, how could he complain that she smiled too fucking much? Or that she kept looking at him weird?

So instead he tried to stay away from her. Hoped it would make her stop. Mostly because he didn't know if he _wanted_ her to stop. And he hated not knowing what he wanted.

But it turned out to be pretty hard to keep out of her way. Didn't really realise how much time they spent around each other. He had to stop himself from stopping by her cell in the morning. Which meant he missed out on hanging out with Lil' Asskicker. Usually liked to hold onto her whilst Carol rooted out diapers and clothes.

Then by lunch time, he had to make sure he sat at the opposite end of the cafeteria, get into a proper conversation with Merle so that she didn't disturb them. She'd looked at him in a way that had made him uncomfortable. Chewed her lip and sighed a little, making him feel guilty as fuck.

So in the end, he didn't even make it to sundown, just watching Carol, looking all hurt, was enough to send him to her cell after dinner.

She gave him that look, that sly little grin as he sat next to her on the sagging mattress, busying himself with fixing up some arrows whilst she patched up one of Beth's shirts.

The game continued. Every day, he'd start off with good intentions. Keep out of her way and get on with things. If he made it to dinner without talking to her, he considered it a good one. If he gave up before lunch, she'd give him that look, the one that told him she knew exactly what he was playing at and she did not care for it one little bit.

Then she went and upped the ante. The looks and smiles became starting points and she moved onto goddamn touches. That really had him freaking out. She'd pass him a plate at lunch, rest one hand on his arm, give him a squeeze before moving onto the next person.

When they were almost alone, just Beth and Carl in the corner playing with the baby, she passed by him to get to the water drum brushed her whole body up against his side as she did it. There had been no need to touch him, there had been plenty of space.

He turned and gave her a sharp look, she simply smiled sweetly and carried on walking.

Fine. Two could play at that. Daryl took in a breath, steeled himself. Carol came back with her pan of water and he was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the sway of her hips. She got closer, clearly intending to do as she had done before but just as her elbow brushed his back, he spun around, got right up in her face.

She took a step back, water sloshed over the side of the pan and slapped onto the concrete. Her lips parted, eyes widened a little in surprise and Daryl couldn't help but smirk.

He moved his arm as she regained composure and passed by, his thumb caught her stomach, he could feel her muscles under her camisole tense under the unexpected contact.

She didn't look back, but he swore the tips of her ears were a little pink. The flirting stuff wasn't as hard as he thought.

Game on.


	21. Cigarettes

This has been sitting in my folder for ages and I didn't upload it because it didn't seem "right" but I figured I'd just post it anyway. It is only a drabble series after all.

* * *

It seemed stupid, washing clothes when they were on the brink of war. But it was her turn to sit with Judith whilst the others went outside, doing whatever it was that needed to be done. Setting up optimum places for sharp shooting she'd heard last.

But doing something as mundane as scrubbing dirt from denim soothed her frayed nerves, especially with Judith down for a nap. Besides, once they were dry, she could pack them into the cars, just in case they had to make a run for it.

The water was almost black with dirt but she only had one more shirt to wash, one of Daryl's. She picked it up off the floor by the hem and just as she made to dunk it in the tub, something slipped from the pocket and fell to the floor.

The little packet seemed alien, a dented white box with a gold logo that stood out even in the poor light of the prison. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered with something as trivial as cigarettes.

T-Dog had been the last one to give them up, back last winter, when finally they'd become too scarce to bother with. Any packets they'd found that were already opened, the tobacco had gone dry and the man had given them up then.

But she'd never seen Daryl with a cigarette between his lips. Never smelled the scent of tobacco on his clothes, on his breath. She couldn't even imagine him holding himself hostage to something as stupid and trivial as a nicotine addiction.

Still, he surprised her in so many little ways, so this shouldn't be any different. Carol tucked the little box into her back pocket and went back to the tub of water.

Once the washing was done, hanging off the rails of the top floor to dry, she moved straight onto lunch and just as she was draining the rice, ready to mix in some canned vegetables, the man who had been on her mind for the previous hour sauntered in.

He went straight for the mailbox sitting on table, where Judith kicked and cooed upon spotting him. Daryl wiped his hands on the seat of his pants, after dropping his crossbow onto the table, scooping the little girl up and joining Carol near the camping stove.

"You alright?" He asked, free hand snaking out and snatching out a piece of jerky from the bowl next to her.

Carol gave him a pointed look, stirred the rice in it's pot.

"You've got to stop picking her up all the time, she's getting to be quite the madam."

And on cue, Judith let out an indignant squeal, causing them both to smirk.

"It don't do her no harm." Daryl mumbled turning away from her to jiggle the baby a little, eliciting more gurgles and squeals.

"Her, maybe not. But you don't get up with her half a dozen times in the night." She kept her tone light, playful almost. She understood why he did it. They couldn't give Judith hardly anything. Could barely keep a diaper on her bottom and food in her belly. But they could give her kisses and hugs. Spend time with her.

"I washed your shirts today."

"Don't gotta do that, told ya." Daryl turned back to face her, snuck another piece of jerky, ignoring her stern look.

"No, I don't mind, you know that." She reached into her pocket, tugged out the little white box and held it out for him. "These nearly fell into the washtub."

Daryl eyed her warily for a second, like it was some sort of test. Carol suspected that he was expecting some sort of tongue lashing for them. He popped the last of the jerky in his mouth and extended his hand out slowly, took them between his thumb and forefinger, before slipping them into his back pocket.

"Found 'em on a Walker."

Carol did her best to contain her amusement, sucked in her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away, committing this look of his, of a little boy getting scolded, to memory.

"I bet they tasted awful." She watched his hand snatch out again, from the corner of her eye and just as his fingers reached the bowl of jerky she slapped them away but he was quicker, snagging another piece.

"Not as good as this." He held the jerky out and Judith's chubby fist flailed out towards it. Daryl tugged it out of her grip, gave her a soft growl that only had her burbling at him. He tugged the salty meat in half with his teeth, quirked his mouth into some semblance of a grin as she looked at the jerky, unimpressed.

"We going to have to add cigarettes to the long list of things we can never find?" She moved past him to put a bottle together for Judith.

"It's me that goes lookin' for the long list of shit." He retorted through the mouthful of jerky. He held out the last piece for Judith and she locked her lips around the strip, suckling the flavour out of it.

Carol frowned at him and tugged the meat out both Judith's mouth and Daryl's hand and quickly replaced it with a bottle of formula before the baby could squall. Daryl jumped to hold the bottle up and Carol took the opportunity to stuff the jerky into his mouth, baby spittle and all.

She thought he might protest, but he just chewed silently all whilst feeding Judith and watching her as she spooned rice onto plates and into bowls.

Carol left him finishing off feeding Judith as she left to call out to the others outside, bringing them in for lunch.

When she came back, trailing behind the hungry hordes, Daryl was still standing, Judith resting over one shoulder as he burped her and she moved to take over, arms outstretched for the baby.

He gave her willingly enough and went to collect his own lunch. As he moved away, a shimmer of gold caught her eye and she watched as his hand slipped into his back pocket and the crumpled carton of cigarettes got tossed in the trash can.

She tried to look away before he got her, but with the baby, she wasn't fast enough and the little grin was still showing on her face.

Daryl gave her a look, one she couldn't quite read, not angry at being caught. Something else. Then, he rolled his eyes at her and walked away to eat his meal.


End file.
